


Of Morning Reflections (Comfort, Love, and Trust)

by Randann



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), But not explicit, Canon Compliant, Cheesy, Domestic Fluff, Editor Akaashi Keiji, Established Relationship, Fluff, I looked up some fancy words and now I think I'm some type of poet, It's basically just akaashi gushing over his husband, M/M, Marriage, Married Life, Post-Time Skip, Pro Volleyball Player Bokuto Koutarou, brief mentions of sex, they're very in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:53:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28726914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Randann/pseuds/Randann
Summary: ‘What a delightfully domestic scene’, he thinks. He’s witnessed it time and time again yet has never bored of it. The bliss of tranquility and stability their morning routine provides has Keiji in unbreakable happiness.-Akaashi waxes poetic as he reflects on a morning shared with his one and only.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 14
Kudos: 49
Collections: My favorite haikyuu fics





	Of Morning Reflections (Comfort, Love, and Trust)

_What is comfort?_

Comfort is routine. The diurnal rhythms of life that come with the light of day. 

It’s habitual activities that turn repetitive, monotonous, with passing time, but you’re grateful for experiencing still because, in life, the only certainty we have is the uncertainty of tomorrow. So routine is comfort, because without it, what else is there to remind you, “Hey, you’re still alive! And life is good,” but quotidian recurrences. 

Akaashi took comfort in his mornings. 

The sun came and sleep went, every day. Despite being something of a night owl, working away on his laptop until the dead of night, without failure his mornings shared with his beloved husband always began at daybreak. 

Each time he’d grumble and moan in displeasure from being awoken from such sweet dreams of a prince with black and white hair. And each time his husband would persist in waking him, despite his protests. Spreading kisses along his neck, wrapping his arms around his middle to refrain him from turning around and dozing off again, all with the claim that- “It’s such a beautiful morning Keiji. Let’s enjoy it together.” 

His days spent in the accompaniment of his other half came with the guarantee of not enough sleep, but that didn’t bother him, because the morning _was_ beautiful, any morning that begins with a shining smile from his Koutarou would be. 

In their apartment lived only them, a luxury provided by the long hours of work and dedication both men have spent on their respective jobs. 

The apartment, otherwise empty of people except for the two in the bedroom, was loud with life. They had decorated the apartment with the intention of making it a lively place to keep Akaashi company during the weeks Bokuto would be away at training camps and tournaments. 

Akaashi had learned one of adult life’s biggest bitter truths when he moved into his first apartment, with adulthood came loneliness. He no longer lived within the protective wings of his parents, and his boyfriend lived 4 hours away by train. Solitude was his only company. 

Bokuto, like many times before, helped him overcome this hurdle. Came December 5th, he gifted Akaashi with a beautiful baby bonsai tree, only a tender 5 years of age. He explained how his mom used to tell him that Bonsai trees have real feelings, they need love and attention to grow. So he hoped that it would provide him with much-needed companionship and give him something to dote on when he wasn’t around. 

From that moment on Akaashi became a proud plant parent. He would talk to it, sing to it, and care for it every day. A happy routine he took comfort in during lonely times. 

Fast forward to the present day, his bonsai tree sits by the windowsill of their bedroom, standing proud at 40 centimeters tall and counting. 

Their nest hosted a variety of other plants as well. Like pots of homegrown sage and basil placed in the kitchen for easy use when cooking. Placed symmetrically on both sides of their front door, two identical Areca palms, a good Feng Shui placement according to the internet. They’re meant to bring luck and health into their private oasis. Scattered among the apartment were their Jade plant, Aloe Vera plant, a Calathea, a variety of orchids, and many more both parents could probably list by full name on sole memory. 

With a house filled with vibrant green, even when Akaashi was left alone, there was life all around, and loneliness was no more. 

Comfort for Akaashi also came in the form of breakfast. Customarily, Akaashi skipped breakfast whenever Bokuto wasn’t around. But in the weeks he was home, they shared a morning meal consisting of eggs, rice, fish, tea, and coffee. 

It was funny, really, how he paid no mind to the importance of morning nourishment unless his husband was around. When left to his own devices, he begins his day with a cup of crappy office coffee and a baked good on the occasions his coworker happened to bring her indulgent bakes for the office to enjoy. 

But not with Koutarou. Nutrition is of the utmost importance when Koutarou’s home. And not just because breakfast is imperative for a world-class, national athlete like his husband. Akaashi would be nothing short of a fool to miss a shirtless Bokuto in pajama pants standing over the stove while preparing their eggs. 

Something so mundane like breakfast. So trivial to many, including himself, now has him floored with fondness as he looks across the table to his soulmate, a mouth full of rice and a dribble of coffee down his chin. He must have rose-colored glasses on, because he couldn’t be more endeared. 

‘What a delightfully domestic scene’, he thinks. He’s witnessed it time and time again yet has never bored of it. The bliss of tranquility and stability their morning routine provides has Keiji in unbreakable happiness. 

Because no matter the fact that Bokuto will be leaving for another training camp shortly, far away from their comfortable nest, their love knows no distance. Never has, never will. 

_Love._

_What is love?_

Love is subjective. Love is many things. It takes many forms. What is for one may not be for another. It is impossible to define love, a concept so complex, so personal, with a single word.

For Akaashi, love is a constant. In everything they do, in every moment they share. When a relationship is as old and matured as theirs, 10 years in the making since that bashful kiss under the artificial light of their highschool’s volleyball court, the emotion is ever-present. It’s second nature.

Their love is impenetrable. Their devotion to one another is unshakeable. Even when inevitable insecurities pester his thoughts, he simply reminds himself of a line he read in a book once: “If a fire can last 10 winters, it should last a thousand more.” 

They have faced many hardships. Their relationship is not perfect and should not be misconstrued as such. Countless sleepless nights of fighting and crying and empty threats of leaving and never coming back, they’ve been through it all, probably more than once.

But they make up for every backward step, with 2 steps forward. Whether it has taken an hour or a few days to reconcile, they’ve always found their way back to each other, even more enamored. 

Love is also passion. Not the fleeting burst of carnal desire one typically associates the word with. This one’s a resemblance to an eternal flickering flame. Its flames can burn with strong intensity, or dance with soft graciousness; unstable, ardent, gentle, shy, but never withering. 

A passion that can be found in the embrace of last night’s events.

Gentle hands on bare skin as lustful lips played together. They danced to a song of lovers, the moon as their performance’s only guest. In her presence, they relished the low romantic glow that peaked through their curtains. 

Consumed in the song’s melodies of moans, pants, _“please”_ , and _“yes”_ , Akaashi gave. From the heartache he feels over the imminent departure of his partner, came the need to take charge and give, _and_ _give, and give_. He turned the man below him into putty, incoherence falling from his lips, eyes rolled back and toes curled. 

Akaashi revels in the reactions he manages to pull from his husband, despite a decade of intimacy under their belts. They know each dip, curve, and crevice of each other’s bodies, yet they continue to explore and touch with the same fascination as that of inexperienced teenagers. 

There’s so much magic in the way their bodies move together in sensual cadence, still searching for the unfamiliar, while skillfully stimulating zones of pleasure they discovered together all those years ago. 

Koutarou’s body is no longer an unknown land. It's been years since Keiji discovered, conquered, and settled on it. But there’s still more to unearth, always is. 

Get too comfortable, and you might just miss great treasures buried right beneath your feet. 

Akaashi laughs at those who say sex with the same person loses its enchantment after a few years. It wasn’t the sex that lost its effect, it was the relationship that lost its meaning. Where there’s a will there’s a way, as goes the saying. 

In marriage, love is a promise. Like the ones made on their wedding day. 

_“I promise to cherish you.”_

_“I promise to take care of you.”_

_“I promise to never lie to you.”_

_“I promise to support you, in everything you do.”_

Perhaps a little quixotic, but isn’t the notion of matrimony already vastly idealistic? Even so, Akaashi’s never been one to have pessimistic views on marriage.

The moment Bokuto got on one knee, the whole world cheering behind him, there was nothing he could have ever wanted more than solidifying their union with a signature on paper and a matching pair of golden rings. 

Was he being a little cheesy? Maybe. Was a grandiose proposal in front of the whole world after Japan’s big win against Argentina, a bit of a cliché? Potentially. But what can he say? They're hopeless romantics, after all, lavish proposals and melodramatic vows are very much them.

It’s not like they fit every romantic comedy to ever be written either. For starters, they’re both males, prime time TV could never. They also didn’t take each other’s last names. Both agreeing that their promise to love each other forever would not falter if they kept that part of their identities separate. 

As Akaashi helps Bokuto fold his training jerseys into his suitcase while the other makes a mess of their closet looking for his knee pads, he remembers a specific part of his vows:

_“I promise to support you, in everything you do.”_

He’s kept that promise, not verbatim, but to the best of his ability. These hours leading up to Bokuto’s departure always prove difficult, even after years of practice. Akaashi wishes for time to stand still, so he could enjoy his husband’s company for just a little longer. Or maybe for the training camp in Sendai to get canceled, so he could have him for much longer. 

He’s just kidding, of course, he wouldn’t actually wish for something like that. 

He made a vow to stand by Koutarou’s side no matter what, and that includes his career. He’s never once thought of breaking it, even with the power to do so and come out completely unscathed. He could be selfish and present the infamous ultimatum: “It’s either me or your job,” and Bokuto would drop his professional volleyball career in a heartbeat. That is how deep his devotion to Akaashi is. He would do anything to make him happy. 

“Check the laundry room Kou, you might’ve forgotten to put them away after washing them.” 

But like Koutarou, Keiji’s devotion to making his husband happy runs just as deep. There is absolutely no way in hell he would ever allow Bokuto to give up his life's work, his passion, for him. Not like it would even come to that because he would never ask for such a thing to begin with. 

Their love story flourished from volleyball. If it wasn’t for the sport, they probably would’ve completed their highschool days without a single interaction. 

Bokuto would graduate without so much as the knowledge of the underclassman's existence. And Akaashi would have nothing more than the memory of the prodigal volleyball player he once saw. The fleeting thought that he was a star would have remained just that, brief, transient, without a smidge of a chance to develop into the great romance it became. 

The sport is held so dear to both their hearts. Even if Akaashi left it behind to explore another passion of his, he lives his cherished old highschool volleyball days vicariously through Bokuto’s profession. Watching his husband play with as much verve and liveliness as he did in high school is an absolute thrill and makes all the distance worth it. 

It may seem sad to an outsider, that the couple spends so many days of the year away from each other, but it’s not. Akaashi’s happy. It’s not like his life revolves around his husband. He’s not some stereotypical bored housewife from the 50s. 

He’s a senior manga editor for a major publisher for heaven’s sake! He’s busy! He doesn’t have time to entertain these “what ifs,” and “if only's,” and he doesn’t need to either. He’s still in his twenties, is a financially independent and emotionally mature young man with a life of his own. He’s got his whole life ahead of him to settle down with Koutarou once the time is right. 

While they’re still in the earlier stages of pursuing self-actualization in their professional lives, their relationship can come second, and there is nothing wrong with that.

“You were right Ji! They were right there on top of the dryer! You’re so smart, I love you!” Bokuto says once he returns to their bedroom, kneepads held in his hand. 

Akaashi smiles at those dear three words and repeats them back to him. They make him reflect on one more definition of “love”. Rather, It isn’t so much a definition, as they are actions and emotions that conceptualize what love is.

Love is the kiss Bokuto places on his lips as he hugs him from behind. How his heart flutters when he’s held close. It is the way he feels so safe in this moment, like nothing could ever hurt him.

Love is the satisfaction that floods him when he smells the cologne Bokuto’s wearing, the one Akaashi bought him for his birthday. It is the hand that brushes up his torso, shoulders, face, and rests on his hair, a finger twirling around a stray raven lock. 

Love is their foreheads resting against each other while their noses softly rub each other in affection. It is the “I’ll miss you” and the “I’ll miss you too” spoken into the small space between their lips. It is the trust Akaashi has in his whole being, that in the time between Bokuto walking out of their apartment to when he comes back in through the door, nothing between them will change. 

_Trust._

_What is trust?_

Trust is exactly that. The knowledge that nothing can tear them apart. Not distance, not time, not their careers. There isn’t a single factor in this world that could break them. 

Akaashi walks Bokuto to the door, heart heavy but trusting. They’ve endured this scene many a time, this is just one more of the bunch, and they’re strong enough to see it through. 

This time around will go the same way the others have. Bokuto will call him in the next hour to let him know he made his train. They’ll chat for a bit before Akaashi has to go back to revising the manga chapter he’s been correcting. 

Between busy schedules, they’ll text each other updates on their day, like how Sakusa and Atsumu are at it again with their bickering, or how worried Akaashi is about Tenma’s energy drink addiction. 

They’ll video chat at night. Drinking in each other’s faces after being deprived from seeing them all day long. If privacy is granted, they’ll indulge in breathy whispers and strangled moans coming in from their phones’ mics. Their own hands taking on the role of substitute in the other’s absence. 

And before they know it, Koutarou will come in through the very door he’s leaving from, suitcase forgotten in the hallway from the excitement he feels to finally get to wrap his arms around his husband, his Keiji. 

Akaashi trusts that it will go exactly like that. Akaashi knows routine. He takes comfort in it. Even when it’s the adapted version they came up with when miles apart. In fact, Akaashi loves it all the same. 

One last goodbye kiss and he shuts the door behind him. He gets ready for the day, attends to his plants, pours himself another cup of tea, and sits down on his desk to begin work. 

There’s a pang in his chest and it really, truly, never gets any easier to say goodbye. But he knows how to deal with it, and he trusts that Koutarou does too.

Instead of letting loneliness or bitterness over the nature of Bokuto’s profession get the best of him, he finds solace in looking forward to a week from now. His husband by then will be back and their nest will feel once again complete. 

He begins to write down his corrections on the rough draft Tenma sent him. November’s chill is in the air but the sun is bright and illuminates his office in a warm hue. He feels at peace.

His phone rings next to him and he can’t help the knowing smile that draws on his face. 

“Hey Kou, made it on the train ok?”

**Author's Note:**

> I attempted to write in more of a verbose style with this one because I want to expand my range as a “writer” and practice makes perfect, am I right? 
> 
> I hope it was good? I don’t know, I haven’t practiced this kind of writing since I was in high school so it’s most definitely lacking and at times a little awkward. 
> 
> Let me know if you liked it! 
> 
> My Twitter: [Randann00](https://twitter.com/randann00)


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